


What Magic Has Touched

by theoxfordcommando



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Lyrium, M/M, handjobs, lyrium handjobs?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoxfordcommando/pseuds/theoxfordcommando
Summary: It wouldn't be unfair to say that the lyrium complicated things between the two of them. Fenris' skin was infused with the stuff, head to toe, and Hawke, well, Hawke was a mage.For Fenris the lyrium held many painful memories, had brought him more trouble and suffering than not. But perhaps it didn't always have to be this way.





	What Magic Has Touched

**Author's Note:**

> Guess I'm on a writing kick, who'd have guessed?
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure I've described all this very well in the summary but this is about Fenris experimenting with other ways of finding and providing pleasure for himself and Hawke, of reclaiming parts of himself he had thought permanently tainted, and revelling in that recovery.
> 
> And if you haven't read my other stuff I cannot emphasise enough how my Hawke never , /ever/ draws on Fenris' lyrium, in or out of combat, and never would. This is Fenris' decision and his choice to see how his lyrium can interact with Hawke's magic.
> 
> But not too make it too serious or whatever, it's mostly just smut. Huge thanks to @gothic-princess-witch for letting me use her "intoxicating" line, probably the best line in the whole thing. <3

Garrett Hawke sat bent over the desk in his study, one hand in his hair, the other absently tapping the end of a pen against the edge of the table. The chair had long since grown uncomfortable but he had yet to take up a different position, lost in thought over the stacks of letters that sat in front of him; one pile to represent Meredith’s requests and concerns, the other Orsino’s.   
Even after all this time and his sincere concentration, he hadn’t been able to come up with any response to either that wasn’t along the lines of “Oh, go fuck yourselves”, and, unfortunately, that was not an overly diplomatic response. 

Champion of Kirkwall, indeed. 

Hawke was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t hear the front door open, completely missed Cat’s welcoming bark. When the door to the study swung open, Garrett turned to see Fenris standing in the doorway.  
It had been a few days since they’d seen each other. Every so often Fenris needed to take some time to be alone, or at least elsewhere, and Hawke would never begrudge him that. Seeing him again though always lifted a weight from Hawke’s shoulders. He felt more at ease with Fenris by his side.

“Good evening.” Fenris said as he strode into the room, unbidden. 

Hawke smiled up at him as he approached. He looked comfortable today, having shed his weapons and armour in Hawke’s entryway, slipped into the sweater that Hawke left for him in the foyer. He had a bottle of wine- the expensive kind, Hawke noted-held loosely in one hand, which he set carefully on the desk next to Meredith’s pile as he came to stand in front of Hawke. 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“It got too quiet without you around.” Fenris said with a crooked smile, as he lifted up a hand to cup Hawke’s jaw.  
“I see you’ve been overworking yourself while I’ve been gone.” 

Hawke glanced over at his overflowing desk. “Working hard, hardly working, who can say, really?”   
Fenris elected not to respond and instead leaned down to kiss his tired lover. 

This was what Hawke had been missing for days now, the taste of Fenris- fresh mint and strong coffee-, the feel of his hands. Even just his presence, the certain knowledge that he was safe and well.   
When Fenris moved to deepen the kiss, both hands now resting on either side of his jaw, Hawke was helpless but to give out a low moan, overwhelmed with the feeling of having Fenris so close again after mere days that had felt like an eternity. 

Fenris pulled away then, but he was smiling. His eyes held a look to them that Hawke knew well.  
Fenris had come here with a purpose.   
Hawke also knew better than to question what it was he had planned. With Fenris, Garrett was more than happy to blindly follow his lead. 

Fenris placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as his hands smoothed down Hawke’s neck to rest on his shoulders, underneath the collar of his shirt. Fenris’ hands were cold, as they usually were, but they warmed swiftly pressed against Hawke’s bare skin.  
Fenris made eye contact with Hawke as he pressed his fingers into the muscle there, working out the knots that built up at the juncture between shoulder and neck when Hawke was stressed. And Hawke was often stressed these days. 

“I missed this,” Fenris murmured, low, intimate. “I missed touching you.”

Garrett allowed himself to drift for a moment, lost in the feel of Fenris’ deceptively strong hands. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward to rest his head against the elf’s stomach. 

He wasn’t prepared when the lyrium in Fenris’ fingertips ignited suddenly, and his head shot up as he gasped, warmth and pleasure spiralling through him.  
Fenris smiled, pleased.

“I would like to try something tonight, if you’d indulge me.”

“Anything.” Hawke agreed immediately.

Fenris’ smile turned lopsided,  
“Anything?” he murmured as he trailed the fingers of one hand from Hawke’s shoulder to his throat, thumb brushing against his adam’s apple. Hawke lifted his chin slightly to grant him better access and watched as the elf’s pupils dilated.

“I trust you.” He replied, in the same low murmur Fenris had used. 

Fenris let the lyrium ignite.

The feel of it blazed through Hawke in a rush and was gone as soon as it came, sharp and intense like a belt of the finest gin, leaving him feeling looser, almost dizzyingly so.   
Hawke opened his eyes, hadn’t realised he’d closed them.  
Fenris was staring at him, lips parted. 

“Take off your shirt.” Fenris commanded, withdrawing his hands.  
Hawke did as he was told, gripping the neck of his shirt and pulling it overhead in one fluid motion, throwing it to the side. Fenris moved even closer to straddle Hawke’s legs and seat himself in his lap. When he found Hawke already half hard, his smirk returned.

“Kiss me.”  
Hawke didn’t need to be told twice. His lips met Fenris’ in a hot, slick slide. Every inch of him was attuned to Fenris, revelling in the feeling of being entirely surrounded by him. He was so focussed on kissing Fenris with everything he had that he didn’t realise the elf’s hands had moved to his pectorals. At least not until Fenris reignited the lyrium. 

Hawke broke the kiss with a shout as Fenris’ glowing hands smoothed over the muscle there, thumb reaching out to idly flick a nipple, sending an electric shiver down the mage’s spine.  
Hawke’s breath was coming faster now. The lyrium was awakening nerves he didn’t even know he’d had.  
Everything felt bright and clear and dangerous. Like standing at a cliff’s edge, when the wind picks up, making your hair stand on end as you look out over the sheer drop to where the waves crash, roiling and white against the low rocks.   
He felt alive. 

Fenris’ hands continued to glow as they ran over Hawke’s chest, pausing occasionally to tug through the hair there, just to watch Hawke squirm. 

Fenris’ lips met his again, as his hands continued to roam, mapping out Hawke’s skin in pinpricks of light that tingled and hummed when bereft of his touch. It was addictive, this combination of sensations. Fenris’ mouth was warm and his tongue was quick. Every now and then he’d pull back the slightest fraction to tug on Hawke’s lower lip with his teeth. All the while his hands kept up their sweet and thorough exploration. 

Fenris broke the kiss again to trail kisses down the side of Hawke’s neck while his hands moved to Hawke’s hips. Hawke let his head fall back as he gave himself over completely to the sensation. He was almost painfully hard now, his body hyperaware of Fenris’ fingers as they skimmed over his pelvic bone. Hawke’s breath came in pants, interspersed with moans and muttered epithets. Hawke felt Fenris’ lips leave his neck, but he stayed close, his low breath shallow as his hands began to toy with the edge of Hawke’s waistband. 

“The sounds you make when you want me- it’s- you’re...intoxicating.” Fenris’ words were barely a whisper, a benediction pressed into Hawke’s skin. Hawke’s only response was to moan even louder as one of Fenris’ glowing hands finally freed him from the confines of his breeches. As Fenris wrapped his hand around Hawke’s length, the mage’s hips pressed up of their own accord, lifting Fenris with them, as Hawke let out the most delicious cry.   
It was heady, having Hawke here like this, splayed beneath Fenris, reduced to the most base sounds simply from his two hands, the flare of his markings. 

Fenris leaned back on Hawke’s thighs, hand stroking Hawke steadily, and he took a moment to marvel at the man beneath him.   
Hawke’s chest was heaving, the finest sheen of sweat covering his neck and chest. A bruise had bloomed just below his jawline and Fenris reached up with his free hand to admire his handiwork, smiling when Hawke leaned into the touch.

Their eyes met then, Hawke’s bleary with pleasure.

“Is this alright?” Fenris asked. Hawke was always making sure of his comfort, it was only right for him to do the same. 

It took a moment for the words to reach Hawke’s brain, Fenris noted, watching as the man processed the question. In fairness to Hawke, Fenris had not stopped stroking up and down the length of him.

“Fenris-“ it was practically a whine, “Fenris- yes, fuck. Fenris!”   
Hawke’s head fell forward onto Fenris’ chest like it was too much work to support it on his own any longer. “Just- Don’t stop, please. Please.”  
That was something Fenris could do. He squeezed Hawke’s cock experimentally, heard his breath catch as he thumbed the head. He allowed the lyrium in his other hand to ignite as he smoothed it up from Hawke’s waist to his collarbone, applying firm pressure all the way. Hawke’s head fell back on a wordless cry, his chest heaving, every inch of him reaching for Fenris, seeking his light.

The lyrium all across Fenris’ body flickered now, all on its own, as he began to lose himself in Hawke’s pleasure. Hawke’s hips moved into his hand in short, aborted thrusts as his low groans turned into sharp “ah”s. 

That shift told Fenris he was close to the edge. Just from his hands. From the electric pulse of his lyrium.  
And the knowledge that he could bring Hawke this pleasure, that the curse burned into his flesh could be used for this, of all things, was almost overwhelming. 

With that thought, every inch of the lyrium in Fenris sparked bright and the entire room was illuminated in the sharp blue glow. Hawke’s hands tightened their hold on Fenris’ hips as Hawke once again thrust up, lifting them both, coming with a shout of Fenris’ name.

It was several moments before Hawke was able to meet his eyes again, moments that felt like an eternity to Hawke, strung out as he was on the high of his pleasure. When he did meet the elf’s eyes again, his own were half-lidded like Fenris was too bright to look at, even though the glow of his markings had faded now. 

“Fenris.” Hawke’s hands began to massage his hips under the large, soft sweater that he was wrapped in. “Fenris.” A low, fond murmur.

Fenris smiled crookedly at him. “Are you alright, then?”

“I have- Fenris, I have honestly never been better in my entire life.”  
And seeing Fenris laugh at that made it even better.

“I love you.” Hawke said. “Maker, I love you so much I can barely breathe.”   
Fenris moved in to lean his forehead against Hawke’s, addicted to the way he looked at him.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs and show you just how much.” Hawke said, quiet in the mere centimetres between them. 

“I’d like that.” Fenris said, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Hawke ate him out to within an inch of his life and they both fell asleep very happy and content. The End.


End file.
